


Spencer And The Ghost

by PondAmyPond



Series: Until Death Do Us Part? [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, The archive warnings aren’t about any of the relationships, The fluffiest fluff, along with descriptions of murder, and a lot of fluff, as a heads up, benevolent haunting, dont worry all the relationships are cute and healthy, ghost story, its just about the crimes they deal with, just angst and crime solving, no smut here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-02-29 04:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18770770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PondAmyPond/pseuds/PondAmyPond
Summary: Leliana Barrow is dead. When she was murdered 4 months ago she found herself stuck haunting a very cute genius by the name of Dr Spencer Reid. She’s pretty sure that their souls are connected somehow. When Reid finally discovers her existence, he enlists the rest of the BAU to help him solve Lana’s murder. They think that if they solve the case, she won’t be stuck as a ghost anymore. But the closer they get to figuring out who dun’ it, the more they both realise that neither of them really wants her to move on.





	1. Chapter 1

“Play that again”   
The words were familiar. Oswald, Spencer’s piano teacher, was a stickler for perfection. But it wasn’t Oswald who spoke. It was Spencer, and he was staring at my fingers on the keys.    
“Play that again, please” he repeated.   
I obliged, my fingers gliding over the piano. I couldn’t really interact with it from their point of view, but on my side of things I was playing Mozart.   
“Reid, are you going to stare at the keys all day or are you going to play something?” Oswald sounded grumpy. That wasn’t unusual for him.    
“You know what, Mr Fairfax, I think I’m done for today, thank you for the lesson, I’ll see you next week?” Spencer spoke quickly, ushering Oswald to the door of his apartment as he did so. Within thirty seconds he had shut the old man out in the corridor and turned back to the piano. And me. I held my breath. Or I would have, if breathing was something I still did.    
“Can you see me?” I asked.    
“That was Mozart, wasn’t it? His fourth symphony. So either I’m going crazy and I’m imagining this, or there is someone I can’t see playing Mozart on my piano,” Spencer said.    
“Yes, I was! I am here! Please, please see me!”   
“Hang on a second, I want to try something.” Spencer disappeared into the bedroom for a moment and came back with a notebook and two pens. He put the notebook down on the coffee table and set one of the pens next to it. With the other he wrote something on the first page. I walked over and read it over his shoulder.    
“Hi - SR”   
I laughed a little. Then I sat down on the sofa next to him and concentrated on picking up the other pen. It took me a few tries but I eventually had a solid grasp on it. Or at least, as solid as I got these days.    
“Hi back - LB”   
“Okay so I can see the words, but the pen hasn’t moved, from my point of view at least. Interesting. Also, I know you can hear me out loud but I think it’s better to record both sides of this conversation, for posterity.” Spencer wrote as he spoke. He signed the words SR.    
“That seems sensible - LB”   
“What does LB stand for? I mean, what’s your name? - SR”   
“Leliana Barrow. Most people call... called me Lana though. - LB”   
“It’s nice to meet you, Lana,” Spencer said. He didn’t write it down. He was looking next to him, right at me if he had been able to see me. The way he said my name nearly knocked me over. I hadn’t heard anyone say my name in months, and it rolled off his tongue like it was something precious. Every letter considered.    
“Hi, Spencer,” I whispered.    
“Why were you playing my piano? - SR” he wrote. I turned my attention back to the notebook.    
“At first it was to try and get your attention, but after a couple of weeks I gave up on that. I just like playing. - LB”   
“Weeks? How long have you been here? - SR”   
I thought about it for a moment. “3 months, 1 week, and 4 days - LB”   
Spencer whistled through his teeth. “Why are you here? - SR”   
This was difficult. I thought I knew the actual answer, I’d spent a lot of time thinking about it, but if I told him my theory he might freak out and stop talking to me. So I told him some of the truth.    
“I died. And there was a white light. And I sort of blinked? And then I was here. In your apartment. On the piano stool, actually. - LB”   
“You, died?” Spencer stopped writing. I nodded, and then remembered he couldn’t see me. It was easy to forget, his eyes felt like they were making holes in me.    
“Yes, I died. I was murdered, actually. But I don’t like to talk about it. - LB”   
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked a little. “It might help, for me to know. I don’t want to make you talk about it, but is it okay if I ask someone to look it up?” He looked so apologetic, like a kicked puppy.    
“Go for it. Call Garcia? - LB”   
Spencer’s eyes went wide.    
“You know about Garcia? - SR”   
“I know all about the BAU, Spence. I’ve been following you around for 3 months. - LB”   
“Good point,” he muttered. I grinned. “Spence. Huh.” He spoke so softly I almost didn’t hear him. His fingers traced the word I had written. I didn’t mean to use the nickname, it just slipped out. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, he shook his head and pulled out his phone.    
“Garcia? Yeah, I know. Can you look up a murder for me? Leliana Barrow. Yeah. Um, hang on,” he held the phone away from his ear, and spoke to me. “She wants to know if I have any more details?”   
“Tell her it was in England. And the girl was 23 when she died. - LB” I wrote.    
Spencer related the information. “Okay. Yeah that sounds like- oh. Wow. Yeah, thanks. That’s it yeah. Bye.” Spencer was staring at the notepad as he hung up.    
“It’s okay - LB”   
“No, it’s not. It’s not okay? It’s violent and violating and horrific. You made the front page headlines.” Spencer still hadn’t sat down again.    
“I know, but it feels, sort of distant from me now? It doesn’t matter anymore. Either way, I’m dead. This is my reality now. Spencer Reid’s Guardian Angel. - LB”   
“Guardian Angel? - SR” Spencer sat down and started writing again.    
“My self-appointed job, I guess. I figured that if I was stuck following you around, maybe I could help a bit. Turns out I can interact with stuff, but only if I concentrate really hard. And apparently, only in relation to you. - LB”   
“In relation to me? What do you mean? - SR”   
“Well, I tried helping the others and it didn’t work. That evidence box that fell off the desk and broke Elle’s toe a month ago? I tried to push it back onto the desk before it fell. But I couldn’t. Whereas the day before, I shoved you hard enough to move you out of the way of that shelf that fell down. - LB”   
“That was you? I just thought I’d tripped, and got lucky - SR”   
“You got me - LB” I stared at the words, panic rising in my stomach. Too close, too true, too much. I shouldn’t have said that.    
“So, does everyone have a guardian angel? - SR”   
“I don’t know. I’ve not met any other dead people. It’s just me. And technically, I don’t think I am an angel. I’m more of a benevolent haunting. - LB”   
“But why are you haunting me? We never met when you were alive, you were from England. Why zap you to my apartment when you went ghost? - SR”   
“I don’t know - LB” And there it was. The one and only lie I would ever tell my soulmate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter involves a more detailed description of the murder. It is a little gory and I'm putting in a body horror trigger warning just in case!

“So what we’ve established so far is that you can interact with the physical world, but only if it’s somehow related to me specifically. You’ve been this way for over 3 months, and through your experimenting have discovered you can only get about 2 miles from me before you - how did you put it?” Spencer paused. He turned from the whiteboard, which was almost full of his handwriting, with little bits of mine too. 

“Snap. I sort of snap back to your side.” I wrote. 

“Right, snap. We also have the details of your case,” Spencer shuffles a couple of papers around. It wasn’t because he needed to read them. Talking about my case, about my murder, made him uncomfortable. It didn’t make me comfortable either, but at least he couldn’t see that. “And as far as we can tell the only commonality the two of us have, in terms of location at least, was a single lecture on criminal psychology in 2011. We didn’t even meet.”

“That’s about it, yeah,” I wrote. We moved past the notebook phase three days ago. We’d run out of paper. Spence has bought me a small, portable whiteboard to write on. The large ones that now took up half of his living room, he’d borrowed from the BUA. He’d told Hotchner that it was for a “special project”. I kinda liked being Spencer’s special project. But I hadn’t told him that. 

“So what do we do now?” I wrote. 

“I’m not sure. You can’t go on haunting me forever. Not that I dislike your presence, it’s sort of comforting actually, having a benevolent ghost, but you can’t be happy living in limbo like this.” Spencer ran a hand over his face. I smiled. I liked it when he was flustered. He blushed more than most men I knew, or had known. It was cute. 

“Most ghost stories involve someone being trapped on earth and unable to move on because they have unfinished business of some kind.” I wrote. 

“Right, right! So maybe you have something we need to help you finish before you can move on? They never found the guy, did they?” The last thought was careful. He knew the answer. 

“You mean the man who violently dismembered me in an alleyway, Reid? No. No they did not.” I hadn’t meant to sound so angry, but it was hard not to let my feelings overwhelm me on this subject. 

“I’m sorry. I know it must be… awful, for you. But I think, maybe he’s your unfinished business? If we solve your case, maybe you can stop being a ghost.” Spencer’s eyes looked hurt. He hated when I called him Reid. I only did it when I was mad. Not that I stayed mad at him for more than a minute. 

“Maybe. So eager to get rid of me, Spence?” I wrote. 

“No,” his voice had dropped so low it was almost a whisper, “No, I’m not.”

“So how do we solve the case, Mr Profiler-Extraordinaire?” My heart was in my mouth. Not beating, of course, but the effect was the same. Every time this happened, I wished more and more that he could see me. Or that I could reach out and touch him. But this was my reality. And I dealt with the bad parts the way I always had - terrible humour. 

“Profiler-Extr…” Spencer trailed off, the edges of a smile on his lips. 

“That’s your idea face, Spence. What have you got for me?” 

“Yes, yes it is, and honestly I’m surprised this didn’t occur to me before. Lana,” Spencer announced, “We are going to the BAU!”

 

… …

 

The car was weird. Not because I had already drifted through the door and sat down before Spencer opened it for me (bless him). Not because I was afraid that if he brakes too hard I would ghost right through the dashboard. What was weird was the level of comfort for both of us. Having only been able to properly know each other for less than a week, it was strange that we had fallen into a pattern with each other so fast. He asked me about what music I liked, I teased him about his sweater vest. It felt like we’d been talking this way for years.

When we got to the BAU, Spencer turned to face the passenger seat. 

“This is going to take a little explanation. Are you sure you’re okay with it? We can try and solve it by ourselves, if you don’t want to do this.” He put his hand on the handbrake. If I’d been solid, a still-alive sort of person, he would have felt my hand resting there under his. “I don’t want to make you feel like a circus act or something.”

I picked up the whiteboard and pen that was sat on the dash. “But Spence, I’m a really good performing monkey.” 

Spencer laughed. Then he got out of the car and cane round to my side to open my door, and to collect my whiteboard. I couldn’t carry it myself. 

Walking into the BAU office was something I’d done many times over the last 3 months. I’d been here almost every day with Spencer. But it felt different, knowing that he knew I was there. I felt more present than I had since I’d died. 

“Hey, Hotch? I need everyone in the conference room for something? It’s important.” Spencer always looked smaller next to Aaron. Like a schoolboy asking for his homework grades. 

“Sure, Reid. Whatever you need, I’ll tell the team.”

Five minutes later, Spencer and I were stood in front of the circular table in the conference room. I stared at the faces looking through me. Aaron Hotchner, Derrick Morgan, Emily Prentiss, JJ,  Penelope Garcia, and Jason Gideon. Aside from Prentiss, who had only worked 2 cases with the BAU so far, after Elle’s departure from the bureau, I knew all of these people almost as well as I knew Spencer. But they were about to meet me for the first time. 

“Meet, Leliana Barrow.” Spence pulled a slide up onto the screen. It was an old profile picture, one of the nicer ones. I was wearing my yellow hat and my favourite striped jumper. I know I wasn’t supposed to hear it but the first time Spencer saw that picture he’d said I was beautiful. “Four months ago she was murdered, in an alleyway behind the theatre she had been working at. An up and coming young actress, aged 23, just finished her masters degree, and starring in a show that was going to be her ticket to the big leagues.” Spencer pauses, looking at my whiteboard. I drew a small smiley face in the corner. He didn’t smile back. “Her body,” he clicked the remote and more pictures came up. The crime scene photos. “Was dismembered. Both her arms, both her legs, and her head, were all separated from her torso and discarded separately.” I shivered, rubbing away the goosebumps that had appeared on all of my limbs. “There were also ligature marks on her wrists and stab wounds in her lower abdomen.”

“How come we weren’t contacted about this case four months ago?” It’s Morgan. Smart boy. I see why Garcia likes him. 

“Because it’s not in our jurisdiction. Not even close. The murder happened in London, England.” Spencer looks sheepish. 

“So why tell us about it, Reid? Unless they’ve officially requested our assistance, we can’t get involved with this case.” Jj looks apologetic, but she’s right. This is my cue. 

“They didn’t request our assistance. But someone did. And I’m going to need you all to just trust me for a minute.” Spencer holds up the whiteboard. He puts the pen in the middle of the table. Then he nods. I pick up the pen and start writing. I hear Garcia and JJ gasp. Morgan, predictably, goes with “aw hell no”. 

“Hi guys. My name is Leliana Barrow. I would really like your help solving my murder.” 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

“It’s a trick, it’s gotta be,” Morgan is practically yelling. 

“Is this more of that physics magic? How’d you do it?” That was Prentiss. 

“That’s not funny Reid, a girl is dead,” Jj looks upset. I like JJ. 

“It’s not a trick, I’m not doing it. Here,” Spencer puts down the whiteboard. “Morgan, get something to write on and something to write with. Anything you like.”

This was the risky bit. I’d been practicing at home, at Spencer’s place, but if I couldn’t convince the universe that Spence needed this to work, I might not be able to pick up the pen at all. 

Morgan had grabbed a yellow legal pad and a ballpoint from his desk. They were now sat in the middle of the table. 

Spencer backed up. “Go for it, Lana.”

“Lana?” questioned Hotch. 

I concentrated, hard. “It’s my nickname. What my friends called me. Before I was killed. And since, I guess.” I’d done it! It worked! 

“Okay that is some freaky shit right there,” Morgan whistled. 

“Don’t worry, Derrick. I only haunt Spencer.” I wrote. 

“Lana’s been hanging around with me for almost the entire time she’s been dead. Nobody has caught her murderer and we think that if the BAU can crack her case, she’ll stop having to be a ghost.” Spencer explained. 

“You had an invisible girlfriend for 4 months and you’re only telling us about her now?” Garcia looked hurt. 

“Well, yes but no. I didn’t know she was here, I only just managed to make contact with her about four days ago.” If my blood still worked properly, i would have been blushing. He hadn’t said I wasn’t his girlfriend. I know that Garcia was teasing, and that I wasn’t actually his girlfriend. But not having to listen to Spencer crush my already useless heart was nice. 

“JJ, do we have a protocol for this?” Aaron looks lost. 

“For ghosts? No, not last I checked.”

“We have protocol for victims requesting our help on their case, though, don’t we? I suggest we follow that procedure. And as such, it appears, we are going to England.”

Everyone turned to stare at Gideon. He’d been silent until now, but there was no mistaking the look on his face. It defied anyone to argue, so instead they all set about getting their go bags and calling their loved ones to tell them not to wait up. Spencer remained. 

“Thank you, Gideon,” I wrote. 

“Don’t thank me yet. We haven’t caught the son of a bitch.” Gideon stared at the crime scene still up on the screen. Then he left the room. 

“That went well, I think? I mean they all believe that you exist now, do you think it will affect anything? For you I mean? If enough people believe you exist maybe you’ll be able to interact with more things or something?” Spencer was twisting his hands, the way he does when he’s stressed or tense. I wanted to put my hand on his. Instead, I wrote on my whiteboard. 

“I do believe in faeries, I do, I do?”

Spencer laughed. “Who knows? It might work?” 

“So clap to bring me back to life, that’s the new plan?” I wrote. 

Spencer grinned and then he began applauding. I watched him, laughing, hands on my hips, head tilted to one side. And then he stopped, suddenly. His face drained of colour. 

“Spence? Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” The irony wasn’t lost on me, but the uselessness of my words was. I hadn’t written it, I’d just spoken out loud, concern clouding my thoughts. 

“I did,” came the reply. And it took me a second before the penny dropped. 

“You can see me? You can hear me?”

Spencer nodded, his mouth hung open in shock. 

“Oh my gods. You can see me. Oh my gods.” I didn’t know how to feel. Every emotion I had been holding in check for 3 months flooded me at once. I felt the tears welling up, and a tiny part of my brain wondered how I could be crying. 

“Please don’t cry! I’m sorry, it just shocked me, I didn’t think clapping would do anything, I’m still not sure it did actually it’s possible it was just the number of people knowing about you increasing but-”

“They’re happy tears, Spence,” I choked out, stopping him mid-ramble. 

“Oh. Good. Hi,” he waved, a tiny smile on his face. 

“Hi Spence,” I waved back. He took a couple of steps closer to me. 

“Can I try something?”

“Sure.”

Spencer put his hand up to mine, fingers splayed as if for a slow motion high five. But when the point of contact came, his hand went straight through mine. 

“Still not corporeal then,” I said. 

“I guess not,” he replied. He looked disappointed. 

“I can’t believe I can talk to you, that you can see me.”

“I can’t believe you’re that beautiful,” he whispered. I wasn’t sure he’d meant to say it out loud. His eyes bore into mine, pools of green I wanted to drown in forever. 

“Reid! Wheels up in 5! Let’s go!” The voice was Morgan. 

“Bring the invisible girlfriend!” JJ added. 

“Not that invisible anymore, as it turns out, guys,” I replied, stepping past Spencer and into the corridor. I was greeted by a host of gasping faces. I waved and grinned. Gideon stepped out of his office and walked through me before he registered it. 

“Huh.”

“Agent Gideon,” I smiled at him. 

“Miss Barrow. Welcome to the BAU.” 

I saluted. I thought I caught the edges of a smile before he turned away. 

“Let’s move, the cars are downstairs. It’s a long flight.” I watched Gideon herd the other agents towards the lift. Spencer came up behind me, a bag in one hand and a book in the other. 

“Are you ready for this?” He asked. 

And I must have felt bold, because my answer was far more certain than I expected. 

“With you? I can handle anything.”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

“We’re gonna treat this like a regular case. JJ, can you coordinate with local law enforcement?” Hotch was pacing the plane, handing out folders as he spoke. Copies of my case file. I fiddled with my hands. 

“Already on it. We’re meeting a Detective Inspector Ford when we get there, I told him it’s part of a UN initiative to combat global violent crime by training behavioural analysis units in other countries.” 

“Great. Morgan and Gideon will go to the crime scene, Prentiss can you set us up at the precinct?” 

“Of course. I was doing some research into similar cases and I think this might actually be the third killing by the same unsub. The other two also involved dismemberment but not to this extent. It’s possible he’s escalating. And there’s been another one since Lana’s murder. Very similar MO.” Emily frowned at the file. “Nobody connected them because all four killings happened in completely different parts of the UK.”

“Good, look into that further, the level of violence suggests that this could become a frenzy if we don’t catch him in time.” Hotch turned to us. “That leaves you and I with the victimology, Reid.”

A strange look passed over Spencer’s face. 

“Leliana, maybe you can go with Prentiss, set things up at the precinct?” Hotch looked awkward about it, running a hand over his face. 

“Are we sure that’s a good idea? I mean, these police officers will have been looking at photos of my dead body for months. Surely they’ll freak out if I just stroll in and wave?” I grin, but nobody returns it. 

“She’s got to come with us, Hotch. She can’t be more than 2 miles from me anyway. It literally won’t work.” Spencer sounds apologetic. 

“Okay. You’ll have to wait in the car then,” Aaron nods at me. “Everybody try and get some rest, we’ll be landing in 2 hours.”

The others go back to their own bubbles, and I turn to face Spencer. 

“What am I missing here? Why is Aaron being so cagey?” 

“Because. We’re going to have to talk to your mother.” Spencer won’t look at me. 

“Oh.” The word feels knocked out of me. 

“That’s what victimology means, we need a full picture of who you were so we can work out why the unsub targeted you. Which we can get some of from you directly, obviously, but you might forget things or think them unimportant so we need to talk to your family, friends, people close to you so that we can do our jobs.” 

“And I can’t see them because I’m meant to be dead. Because I am dead.”

“I’m so sorry, Lana,” Spencer finally catches my eyes and I see the film of tears in his own. 

“It’s okay, Spence. I knew this was part of the process. I’ll stay in the car, I swear.” I manage a tiny smile. “Besides, I hear Hotch has a secret love of ABBA I can’t wait to explore in his CD collection.” 

Spencer smiles back. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aaron smirk softly. It is the only indication anyone else heard us talking. 

I lean my head back against the seat. It’s getting easier to interact with the physical world, but people are still off limits. All the same, Spencer puts his hand on mine, and when it sinks through my fingers onto the armrest, the sensation is oddly comforting. 

 

… …

 

“Mrs Barrow? My name is Agent Hotchner. This is Dr Reid. We’re with the FBI. We’re consulting with Scotland Yard on your daughter’s case.” 

“Oh, yes. Come in.” 

“Thank you.” 

I watch Reid and Hotch step across the threshold of the house. I can’t help but feels a jolt of sadness, staring at it. The turquoise paint on the front door, that caused so much fuss from old lady Doris next door when we did it, is peeling at the edge. The doorbell is still broken. The matching potted rose bushes either side of the door are wilting with neglect. Watering them had always been my job when I visited.

I turn away, wiping the tears from my cheek roughly. I turn on the CD player and close my eyes as the music starts. 

 

… …

 

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Lana’s mother is bustling around the kitchen. Classic distraction technique. But the offer is genuine. 

“No thank you,” Hotch says. 

“I would like a cup of tea, thank you. If it’s not too much trouble, Mrs Barrow.” I can feel myself wanting to impress her. Strange. 

“It’s Miss Barrow, actually.” The kettle whistles and she pours the tea. 

“Excuse me?” Hotch asks. 

“I’m not married. Never have been, actually. Not that I wouldn’t have liked to be, it just wasn’t in the cards for me I suppose.” Miss Barrow smiles over a carton of milk.

“What about Leliana’s father?” Hotch asks. 

“Never met him. Lana came to live with me when she was 8, bounced around a couple of foster homes before that. She had a different name then, Maria Knowles. She hated it, so I let her choose her own name when I adopted her. She was 10.” Miss Barrow handed me a cup. It was gentle green china, with a leaf motif on the rim. The steam coming from it smelled lovely. “Here, dear. Careful, it’s hot.” 

“Um, right. Thank you. So, Miss Barrow, I know it must be difficult but would you mind telling us a bit about your daughter? It will help us with finding her killer.” I perch myself on the edge of a sofa. Hotch sits next to me. Lana’s mother takes the armchair opposite us. There is a quilt on the arm of it that she strokes absently while she talks. She can’t be more than 45 but it’s clear that the last 4 months have aged her. 

“She was such a sweet girl. So bright, full of real excitement about life. She used to keep a daily list of good things. It could be anything, from seeing a squirrel on her walk to university to getting an unexpected gift. It helped her manage her darkness, I think.” 

“Darkness?” I lean forward, taking care not to spill the tea. “What do you mean?” 

“Lana struggled with depression. I think it had something to do with her life before me, it wasn’t pleasant. But she was always careful about it. She never wanted to worry anyone or be a burden. She used to just get quiet for a time and need to be alone. And when she came back out of her room, she’d be so bouncy and upbeat, you’d wonder if you imagined the shadows that were there before.” 

“Would you mind if we had a look in Leliana’s room, Miss Barrow?” Hotch asked. 

“Not at all. I left it like it was, I can’t bring myself to get rid of any of it. It's the one right at the top of the house. She used to say having the attic room made her feel like Anne Shirley.” A sad smile crossed her face. 

“From Anne of Green Gables?” I ask. 

“Yes, it was her favourite book. I think she identified with it.” 

“Dr Reid will stay and ask you some more questions while I look at Leliana’s room, Miss Barrow.” Hotch stood up and nodded at me. I felt a pang of disappointment. I’d wanted to see Lana’s bedroom. Which, again, was strange. Why was I so obsessed with her past? It felt like more than just the case. I wanted to know her, properly know everything about her. Maybe it was because she had been around me for so long without me knowing. I felt like I was playing catch-up. 

“Did your daughter have any enemies, Miss Barrow?” 

“No, she didn’t. Everyone liked Lana, she just had one of those smiles that made you feel safe, do you know what I mean?” 

“Yes, I do,” I reply, a small smile of my own spreading on my face as I imagine Lana’s smile. I thought back to three days ago. I had risen early, and when I went into the living room I found her sat at my bay window, watching the sunrise. She had turned round at my mumbled greeting and her smile had nearly bowled me over. _ “Isn’t it beautiful, Spence?”  _ she’d said. I had had to agree. 

“She has her fair share of childhood bullies, of course. Most children from the foster-care system get picked on for it at some point. But she dealt with them with grace, she was so mature even when she was little,” Miss Barrow was saying. “I just don’t understand who would do this. My poor little girl.”

My heart jolted as I watched her start to cry. I set down my empty teacup and handed her a handkerchief. And then I said something we never say. 

“We’re going to catch whoever did this, Miss Barrow. I promise.” 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: this chapter gets a little gory about the murder victims. Not a lot, but it's mostly a case-related chapter, so if that bothers you and you're here for the romance, maybe skip this one!

The drive back to the precinct is icy. Aaron is angry with Spencer, but I’m not sure why. And Spencer won’t look at me. It’s a relief when Garcia calls. 

“Hey Garcia, you’re on speaker,” Hotch says. 

“I’ve been looking into those other murders since we set up here, and can I just say that Scotland Yard is at least five years behind in their tech updates, some of this equipment feels positively primeval-”

“The case, Garcia, focus.” Hotch’s face twitches a little and I think he’s trying not to smile. 

“Right, yes sir, sorry. So I found something weird about the way the body parts were scattered. The police here thought it was random, and it certainly looks that way at first, but when you put the pictures of the other crime scenes with our original one, it almost looks like letters.”

“Letters? You mean, the killer is trying to say something?” Spencer snaps his head to me for the first time in an hour and he looks equal parts excited and terrified. 

“Yeah, we’re still working on getting photos from two of the crime scenes, but so far we’ve got an R in St. Ives, an N in Bolton, a U in Nottingham, and we’re pretty sure Lana’s is a W.”

“Serial killers have been known to leave messages either with or on their victims. The Zodiac Killer sent a series of 25 letters to various reporters and police investigators between 1966 and 1978, although the authorship of some of those letters is disputed by experts. And more recently in San Jose there was a murder that was thought to be a random attack, possibly motivated by racial hatred, until they discovered a note next to the victims that implied there were other bodies the police had failed to find or at least failed to connect. We’ve even worked a couple of cases that involved the killer carving words directly onto the bodies themselves, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a case like this before.”

I love it when Spencer spouts books like that. I know it should freak me out, that he just rattled off numbers about such gory things, but I can’t seem to feel anything but a strange sense of pride and excitement. His eyes light up and it makes my mind go kinda fuzzy. When I focus again, Hotch has hung up and is talking to Spencer. 

“RNUW? It could be an acronym, a company name maybe?”

“It’s possible, but the victims were all from different economic backgrounds, they certainly didn’t all work for one company, which you would expect if the killings were motivated by revenge on a corporation from a disgruntled employee.”

“Not to sound like the voice of stupid, but isn’t it possible that it’s a word, it’s just jumbled up. My mother…” I almost choke on the words, the tiny glimpse of her brunette curls that I caught through the doorway as she saw the agents out earlier, flooding my brain. I take a breath and the memory recedes a little. “My mother used to do puzzles like that in the sunday paper.”

“You mean an anagram? I can’t think of any way those four letters rearrange to be a word.” Hotch says, eyes fixed on the road. 

“What if it’s not one word? What if it’s two words? The first word would be made up of the first three victims, RNU, and the second word is marked by the two week gap between those murders and Lana. RNU becomes RUN.” Spencer stops as his brain catches up with his mouth. 

“But W isn’t a word on it’s own, unless it’s meant to stand for something.” Hotch looks confused, but I share a look with Spencer as it clicks for me as well. 

“The W isn’t a word. It’s the start of one. He needs more letters to finish his anagram. Which means he’s going to kill again.”

 

… … 

 

“I still can’t believe we’re in England! Do you think we’ll have time to go on the London Eye before we leave?” Garcia is staring wistfully out of the office window, chatty as ever. 

“I don’t know, but if you want to see the sights in London, I’d definitely recommend a tour of the London Dungeons. It’s full of really interesting history.” I feel her make a face before I actually see it. 

“Honestly, Genius, do you ever think about anything that isn’t murder related?”

“I like Star Wars,” I protest weakly. What I want to say is that right now I’m thinking about a girl, sat in the coffee shop across the street, trying not to be noticed as she fails to pick up a coffee cup. But that girl is technically murder related so it wouldn’t really help my case much. 

“I think we could arrange some time off for us to enjoy our surroundings, but it will of course, depend on us solving this case first, Agent Garcia.” Gideon’s voice cuts through my thoughts. 

“Yes sir, of course. I’m sorry,” Garcia looks a little flustered. She always did when Gideon caught her doing something less-than-perfectly-agent-like. 

“Where are we at with the anagram?”

“The other crime scene photos came through, an A and a Y. At my best guess, the missing letter is another A. Meaning that his message, or at least the first two words of it, is-”

“Run Away.” Gideon interrupts me, his fingers tracing the letters on the whiteboard. 

“Yes, yes, exactly.”

“The question is, who is the message for? Is it meant to scare off law enforcement? Is it about how the victims died?” Hotch is standing in the corner, his  hand over his mouth as he thinks. 

“There were no defensive wounds on any of the victims’ hands or feet. It’s possible they did try to run, but I don’t see why he would tell us that.” Morgan is shuffling through crime scene photos. 

“It doesn’t fit the profile. He wouldn’t want us to know if they ran, he needs to be powerful. Chasing them would make him look weak.” Prentiss pipes up. 

“She’s right. I think the message is more likely to be for the police.” Gideon nods. 

“Maybe not,” I say. 

“Reid?” Hotch prompts me. 

“What if these killings are a message to a specific person? Not the police, but someone the unsub feels threatened by. He’s using the murders to show this person that they’ve chosen the wrong person to victimise. He’s literally spelling out what they should do.”

“Garcia, can you look into the victims and see if they had any social connections? If Reid is right, it’s possible that they all knew the person that the unsub is trying to threaten, it would have more impact that way, let this person know that the unsub could get to them directly if he wanted to.”

“On it, boss,” Garcia nods at Hotch and starts typing. 

“Aren’t we missing the obvious here though?” JJ asks. 

“What do you mean?” I say. 

“If there’s a letter missing, he needs one more body to finish his anagram.”

“Prentiss, did your geographical profile pull up any patterns as to where the bodies were found?” Gideon is all business again, snapping out of his trance by the whiteboard. 

“It’s not much, they’re really all over the place, but he seems to have started in the south west corner of the country and worked his way around it in a curve, north and then back towards the south east. The latest murder happened in Surrey. So I think he’s going to strike somewhere more south-east than that.”

“Okay, JJ let’s set up a press conference and get the profile out there. If he sticks to the pattern, we’ve got 4 days until he strikes again.”

As the others go back to working their various angles, I turn my attention back to the words on the board. RUN AWAY. My mind drifts back to the ghost girl in the coffee shop, waiting for news of the case, and I can’t help but think that running away with her feels like the best course of action in this case.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic descriptions of violence. They present the profile in this chapter, which involves some further description of the actual murders and the bodies. Skip to the end for fluff!

The laptop sat in front of me on the table, next to my untouched coffee. I couldn’t drink it even if I drank coffee in the first place, but having it there felt comforting somehow. Normal. Just a girl in a cafe, nothing to see here. On the laptop screen the video feed of the precinct, that Garcia had linked me into, reminded me that nothing about this was normal.

I kept concentrating on keeping myself corporeal enough to use the headphones. Since I’d become visible, interacting with the world was getting much easier, but if I got distracted and the earbuds literally fell through my face I couldn’t imagine the kind of scene I would create. And besides all that, Aaron was talking. They’d started giving the profile. 

“The unsub is a white male, we’re putting his age somewhere between 20 and 35.”

Gideon picked it up. “This unsub kills to feel powerful. He leaves his victims alive while he removes their limbs, to watch their fear. He needs it. It’s likely that this is because he feels powerless in his day to day life. He probably works in a menial job, janitor or handyman maybe. Something people overlook and snub.”

Now Spencer was talking. “Geographically he has set up his kills all over the country, so it’s likely he works in a travelling capacity, either as a freelancer or with a company that sends him out nationally. It’s also important that this man is clever. He wouldn’t appear so to those who know him, but if you observe him closely you’d notice that he likes puzzles, crosswords, and chess. He has arranged his victims’ bodies as an anagram. A message of RUN AWAY. We believe this to be a message to someone in his life that has threatened him.”

“It is likely this person works for some form of law enforcement. You may have already arrested the unsub on some smaller petty crime. It is also possible that the unsub owes this person money. We know that he likes risk, and it is safe to assume he gambles regularly.” Emily continues. 

“Start with casinos around all of the known crime scenes. He would have lost, big time, in at least one of them. It’s even possible that the first loss was the stressor that started his killings.” Gideon concludes. 

I look away from the screen. I do a sweep of the cafe. A couple in the corner, an old lady with a book, a teen texting, and a young woman with her dog. I release some of the tension in my shoulders. No unsub here. Not that he’d have any reason to be, but it was unnerving, knowing what kind of person did this to me. 

The bell above the door chimes and a man walks in. White, 25. And all of the remaining tension in my body drains away. I smile. 

“Spencer!” I wave him over. He smiles when he sees me.

“Hey, I thought I’d come check on you. Is the video feed still working okay?” He gestured at the laptop as he sinks into the chair next to me. 

“Yeah, it’s working fine. Not as good as being actually able to hang out with all of you but as good as I’m gonna get while we’re here. You presented the profile.” 

“Yeah, we did,” Spencer replies. He looks uncomfortable, running a hand through his hair. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” I answer too quickly, and I can feel Spencer’s eyes burning concerned holes in me as I avoid his gaze. “It’s just, it’s a lot that’s all.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t even know how to handle this. Usually murder victims never have to hear about who killed them.” 

“But don’t most murderers choose people they know? So I guess those victims already know the profile right?” 

“I suppose you’re right. I never really considered it much. I try not to think about the victims before they died, it makes the job harder.”

“Oh. Sorry.” I feel crushed. “Having me around must suck.” 

“No!” Spencer automatically goes to put a hand on my shoulder and I shiver as it falls through me, brushing where my heart was as it fell. “I didn’t mean that at all!” 

“It’s okay. When we solve the case I can move on, whatever that means. And I won’t be around to remind you about the hard parts of victimology anymore.” I sound bitter. I can’t help it. I want them to solve the case. I  _ need _ them to solve the case. But I don’t want to move on. I want to stay with Spencer. And knowing that some part of him, however big or small, sees me as a reminder of something bad, hurts. 

“I don’t want that.” His voice is so low I almost miss it. 

“Don’t want what?” I’m confused. 

“I don’t want you to move on. I don’t want you to go away, I- I like having you around. I like you.” Spencer looks up from his twisting hands and his eyes are so sincere it almost feels painful to meet his gaze. 

“Oh.” I say, uselessly. 

“Is that selfish of me? It is, right? I should want you to be at peace or something. I don’t really believe in god or heaven, but I should want you to be resting peacefully at least. But I don’t. I want you to be sitting in my bay windows watching the sunrise every day.” 

A smile spreads over my face. It feels like butter melting on toast, golden and delicious. I concentrate, really really hard. I put all of my dead heart into the thought. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. And when my hand rests on top of Spencers’, it doesn’t fall through. 

“You’re cold,” he gasps. I almost laugh. But I need to say this and I need him to know I’m serious. 

“If I can help it, if I get a choice? I’d choose to stay with you.” I tell him. 

He strokes a thumb across my hand and we both stare at each other, lost in our own world of wonder and promises. Then a waitress drops a tray and it makes me jump. I lose my connection to the physical and my hand floats through Spencer’s again. There’s no time to feel disappointed because Spencer’s phone rings. 

“Yeah? Sure. Be right there. Okay.” 

“What’s happening?” I ask as he stands up, gathering my laptop together. 

“They found the new victim. We’re going to the crime scene.” 

“Both of us?” I ask, “How will that work? Won’t they freak if they see me?”

“It’s a different set of cops, the scene is down in Hastings, Sussex. Besides,” he adds, “I’m not going anywhere without you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter involves the description of a crime scene so tw for graphic descriptions of violence (or rather the aftermath of violence) apply.

It’s raining when we arrive in Hastings. I look out of the car window and watch the waves crash against the rocks by the pier. I’ve been here before, a long time ago. On a school trip when I was 8. It rained that day too. 

“Here,” Spencer says, interrupting my thoughts as he opens the car door and holds out an umbrella. “I thought it would help to hide that the rain goes right through you,” he whispers to me as I take it from him. I barely have to think about holding it. I imagine that my hands are warm against the wooden handle and that I can feel the wind chill blowing through my coat. 

“Agent Reid?” A uniformed officer walks over to us. 

“Doctor,” Spencer corrects him. I smile to myself. 

“Right, sorry. I’m Detective Carlson, your colleague Agent Jareau told me you were coming.” The detective looks tired. And cold. 

“Good. This is Agent Lana Miller, and I believe Agent Morgan will be with us soon as well. He got stuck in traffic from Norfolk.”

It takes me a second to register that the woman Spencer just introduced as Agent Lana Miller, is meant to be me. 

“Norfolk? That’s a heck of a drive. Body was discovered over this way, I’ll take you now.” DC Carlson waves us over and we follow him to a slightly more sheltered section of the beachfront. Almost hidden is a right hand turn down an alley that connects two sets of terraced houses. 

“Careful there, Agent Miller, it’s a little slippery. Usually is when the weather's like this, but I can’t tell you it’s the sea spray today unfortunately.” Carlson grimaces. 

I look down at my feet and realise he’s stopped me from stepping in a pool of blood. I feel a wave of nausea. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispers to me. 

I put on my bravest face. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“The body was discovered by a Mrs Muriel Nester. She was putting her cat out this morning and woke the whole block up screaming when she saw the head on her doorstep.” Carlson points to a yellow crime scene marker. There is a dark red stain under it. 

“The arms were set up with one of the legs to make a triangle. The other leg was chopped into pieces to finish it off.” Spencer continues, pulling out the crime scene photos on his phone and scrolling through them. 

“That’s definitely our missing letter A then,” I interject. I try to mimic Emily, pointing to another crime scene marker. 

“But he’s getting careless. He left a boot print behind in one of the blood pools.”

“I don’t think it’s carelessness, he’s too organised for that. He knew it was going to rain, so it wouldn’t matter. And he’s right, the rain’s moved the blood around too much, we’ll never get a full print off of that.” Morgan frowns as he steps up beside me. 

“Agent Morgan,” I nod. 

“Agent Miller,” he smirks back. I guess Reid texted him my alias. 

“Do we have an ID on the body yet?” Reid asks. 

“Miss Amelia Borden. Single, no family, just started a new job last week. Shame.” The detective shakes his head. 

“Started a new job?” I ask. I can feel the cogs turning in my head. 

“Yeah, she’d just got back to town from doing a teaching degree. She’d been appointed the new deputy head at the primary school just up the road from here.”

“Morgan, what did the victim in Norfolk do for a living?”

“Anabel Giles. She was an accountant, just got promoted a month ago.” Morgan replied. 

“The other victims had all recently started new jobs or been promoted as well,” Spencer picks up my train of thought. “Lana, I think you just found our connection between victims.”

“And possibly part of the puzzle about who he’s sending this message to. It’s about cutting these women down in their prime, while they’re thriving. It’s about crushing their dreams, literally.” Morgan adds. 

“So whoever he’s trying to intimidate might have beaten him for a promotion?” I suggest. 

“It’s certainly worth looking into.” Spencer nods at Carlson. “We should be getting back, but if you think of anything pertinent let us know.”

Carlson shakes Morgan’s hand. “I hope you get this guy. Never thought much of yanks before, I’ll admit, but if you nab this son of a bitch then I’ll gladly eat my words.”

Morgan chuckled. “Buy yourself some syrup to go with those.”

The three of us trudged back up the beach to the cars.

“How do the casinos factor in? If a loss there isn’t what the threat is about?” I ask. 

“Maybe it is a casino loss but not in the typical sense.” Spencer looks suddenly excited and pulls out his phone. “Garcia? Yeah. I need you to find the employment records of the biggest casinos in the area around our first murder scene. Find out if anyone had been passed up for a promotion recently, potentially something big. Great, thanks.”

“Let’s hope Penelope can work her magic. In the meantime, I think we ought to go back to base and tally this new info into the profile. For one thing we might have to reconsider the travelling aspect.” Morgan says. 

“What if he’s following the guy around? Say the promotion was to do with marketing, a travelling position between all the casinos in that chain. Potentially the unsub could be following the guy who beat him to the job around the country. He’s taking the murders to his doorstep, making the threat unignorable.” I stop at the car door. Spencer opens it for me and I smile at him. 

“You know, Agent Miller,” Morgan smirks at me as he opens his own car door, “You might be more than drop dead gorgeous after all.”

“Haha very funny,” Reid shoots Morgan a look. 

“See you back at HQ,” I wave to Morgan as he gets into his car. When Spencer and I are both sat in our own SUV, I turn to him. “What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?” He looks confused. 

“Morgan’s always teasing, you know that. So why the suddenly hostile reaction to his joke?”

“I wasn’t being hostile, I just thought it was insensitive,” Spencer shifts the car into gear. 

“Because it was a joke about me being just a pretty face?” I smile at him. 

“Because reminding someone that they’re dead seems rude,” Spencer looks at me quickly, his frown settled right between his eyebrows. 

I laugh gently. “Thank you for defending my honour then, Doctor Reid.” 

Spencer’s face relaxes somewhat. “You’re welcome, Agent Miller.” He grins at me. 

“Seriously though, I wanted to say thank you. For doing all of this, solving my case, bringing in the team. Seeing me,” my voice cracks. “You have no idea how good it feels knowing you can see me. Months of being totally unable to communicate were torture.” 

“I don’t know how I didn’t see you the whole time,” Spencer says, his voice quiet. “You’re such a radiant presence, it’s like sharing an apartment with the moon. Bright and somewhat ethereal.” 

I smile. “What does that make you then?”

“A very determined astronaut,” Spencer says, his face serious before he makes eye contact with me and we both break down into giggles. Giggling seems inappropriate after the crime scene we just saw but both of us know that one of the ways you get by is by finding laughter in the dark times. I rest back against my seat and watch the sea recede along the horizon. I feel closer to answers than I have in months, and for the first time that doesn’t scare me. 


	8. Chapter 8

Hotch was pacing. “Are you sure about this?”

“Well, as sure as we can be. You’re always telling us to trust the profile, that’s what I’m doing.” I reply. I’m starting to get impatient with this. I just want to catch the guy already. 

“He’s right, Hotch.” Gideon gets up from the desk and puts a hand on Hotchner’s shoulder. “It fits with the profile.”

“Okay.” Hotch nods and presses the call button for Garcia.

“You’ve reached the internet oracle, I’m sensing you need some hacking?”

I smile. I love Garcia’s bubbly personality, it’s one of the things that makes the darkest parts of profiling easier to manage. 

“Garcia, you’re on speaker,” Hotch tells her. “We need you to find a person that recently got promoted at a casino near our first crime scene. It would be a travelling position.”

“I’ve got 9 promotions at 3 casinos, only 4 of them are travelling positions. Mr Abraham Lorton - catering manager, Mrs Millicent Fulmer - PA to the CEO, Mr Roger Lasdale - company accountant, and Miss Rebecca Brydon - national marketing.”

“Rebecca Brydon. She’s single and female, just like all of the victims,” I say urgently. 

“Garcia, where is Miss Brydon now?” Gideon asks. 

“She just checked into a hotel in Portsmouth. The casino is about a ten minute drive from the hotel, I’m sending you the addresses now.”

“Great, thanks Garcia.” Hotch hangs up and grabs his jacket. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll get Lana,” I say, and I’m gone before anyone can argue. 

 

… … 

 

The door to the cafe opens with a bang and Spencer is there, in his FBI vest. He searches for me and when he makes eye contact he nods quickly, beckoning me. I stand up and follow him out of the door, ignoring the stares and shouts from the other patrons. 

“You found him?” 

“Not quite, But we found where he’s going and who he’s been threatening. I think he’s going to try and kill her.” Spencer is dragging me towards a car, both of us almost running. 

“Then we have to get there first,” I reply. It isn’t until I let go of him to get in the car that I even realise he was holding my hand. But there’s no time to process that, we have a murderer to catch. There will be plenty of time to talk about everything later. 

The drive to Portsmouth takes less time than I thought, and we’re about five minutes away when Garcia calls. 

“Hey kids, so get this. I did some digging and Rebecca Brydon has been promoted four times in the last 9 months that she’s been working for the casino.”

“That’s a lot of promotions,” Hotch says from the driver’s seat. 

“It is, and that’s not all. Every single one of them she beat a Mr Robert Hightower to the post, and it turns out that there’s been somewhat of a scandal at the HQ because two months ago a security tape showed Miss Brydon having intimate liaisons with the CEO, Gerry Nimgold, in his office. Mr Nimgold was paying off a blackmailer who had the tape. My guess is that if we follow the money it will lead us back to Robert Hightower, who’s criminal record for assault and battery is frankly impressive.” 

“You’re amazing, thanks Garcia.”

“I know, none of you deserve me.” I can hear the smile in her voice as she hangs up. 

Hotch pulls up to the front of the casino. Morgan, Gideon, and Prentiss have gone to the hotel. 

“Lana, you have to stay here.” There’s no arguing with the order in his voice, so I just nod. “Garcia is on speed dial 1 if anything happens,” he adds, pointing at the phone on the dashboard. 

“Got it.” 

Hotch and JJ unholster their weapons and get out of the car. Spencer turns to me.

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” 

“I’ll be here when you get back, I promise. Be careful.” I lean across and I barely think about it before planting a kiss on his cheek. He stares at me, eyes wide. “Go,” I say, pointing at the door of the car. 

I watch him go through the tinted window and as he disappears into the casino with the others, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. I will see him when he gets back. Right? 

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

The casino is loud and overwhelming, flashing lights and chiming slot machines everywhere. I shake my head to clear it. Half of me is still outside in the car, and I can’t stop feeling that something bad is about to happen. It sits on my chest like ice.

“Here!” Hotch shouts from the staircase and I rush towards him, blinking to stay focused. 

The patrons have all been cleared out now and it’s strange to see a place like this empty. It’s eerie. I step into the room the Hotch went into and freeze at the scene. 

“Put it down, Robert.” Morgan says, coming up behind me. He’s talking to the man in the middle of the room, who is holding a knife to the throat of a blonde woman. The desk between them and us makes it difficult to negotiate in the space. 

“It’s over, Robert. Put down the knife,” Hotch says. He takes a slow step towards the unsub. 

“Don’t move! Move and she dies!” The look in Robert Hightower’s eyes is crazed. It’s a look I’ve seen before. 

“We know she got your promotion, Robert. You feel cheated, like she won at poker while you thought you were playing Gin Rummy.” I holster my gun and step towards him.

“She rigged it! She was sleeping with the boss! This job should have been mine!” Robert cries. 

“I know, but you won’t get it this way. You’re a gambler, Robert. Play the odds here. Put down the knife, come with us. You know that you can’t win any other way.”

Robert’s hand shakes slightly. Then he slowly lowers the knife and drops it on the floor. Rebecca runs to Morgan, who ushers her out. I put Hightower in handcuffs. As I’m doing it, I lean in close to his ear and whisper. 

“You’ll never see daylight again. And if it were up to me, it would be worse.” I click the handcuffs shut slightly too tight. It’s a petty revenge, but looking at this man and knowing what he did to Lana makes my blood boil.

I hand him over to the local PD and as soon as he’s out of my sight, I forget about him. Lana fills my head. The way she smiles, the way she frowns while she’s reading, the gap in her teeth, the way her hand felt in mine, the kiss she left on my cheek as I got out of the car. And suddenly, every second is too long, I have to see her. I race back to the SUV, yanking open the door. 

“We got him, Lana, we-” I stop. She isn’t there. I duck back out of the car and start looking around wildly. I spot Morgan over to one side by an ambulance. 

“Hey kid, nice job in there.” 

“Thanks, have you seen Lana?” 

“No,” he frowns, “I thought she was in the car?” 

“She’s not there,” I reply. A deep panic has stuck in my throat and I feel like I can’t breathe. She can’t be gone, she was right there. She promised she’d stay there. But the longer I look the more the despair settles around me. Lana’s unfinished business was Robert Hightower. Arresting him ended that. And she had nothing left keeping her here. She’s gone.

 

… …

 

I feel funny. Too light, like gravity’s stopped working. My arms and legs start to float and I watch them, not quite comprehending. As I drift through the roof of the SUV, I am filled with calm and understanding. My unfinished business is done. They caught the unsub. He won’t hurt anyone else now. And I can finally rest. A smile spreads on my face.

I look down at the world as it gets smaller below me. The casino, the cars, the flashing lights of the ambulances. And tiny people, scurrying around like ants. I make out Hotch, and Morgan. I see Prentiss get out of a car that pulls up, and JJ is talking to her. 

A blur of motion captures my attention. It speeds past everything and opens the door of the SUV I was just in. It's barely a dot below me now. But the person is so  _ bright _ . It almost hurts too look at him. I can’t quite make out who it is, and then I hear him. Clear as a bell, like he was shouting inside my head. He’s calling my name. 

My brain is filled with clarity, my blurry bliss gone.  _ Spencer! SPENCER!  _ I have to go back. I don’t want to move on, I don’t want to go into the light. I want to stay. With Spencer. With Spencer’s smile, his shy laughter, his endless statistics, his sweater vests, his crooked tie, his messy hair. I have to go back! 

The sky opens above me and a white light spills out.  _ No! Wait! SPENCER!  _ I’m sure I’m shouting but they can’t hear me.  _ I WON’T LEAVE HIM!  _ I scream silently. 

A new voice answers me. It’s deep and slow. It doesn’t have a gender and something about it is otherworldly. 

“Then you will be tested.”

The white light disappears. I start to free fall, faster and faster. I throw my hands out to protect me from the ground but when I reach it I just keep falling, right through the earth. And then everything goes dark. 

I don’t know where I am. An endless void of black stretches in all directions. And I hear the voice again. 

“Find him, Leliana Barrow. Find him, and you will be restored. This is the soulmates’ ultimatum.”

I get to my feet. I can’t see what I’m standing on, but I don’t care. I pick a direction and start walking.  _ I’m coming back, Spence. Wait for me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Lana get back to Spencer? Will he wait for her? Or will he have moved on by the time she makes it to his side? Stay tuned for part 2 of this series coming soon!


End file.
